


A Smile to Protect

by AU Mer-Maid (neonstardust)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aromantic Asexual Shirabu Kenjirou, Chokers, Collars, Don't Let The Tags Fool You This Is Safe For Work, Kinktober 2019, Pastel Goth Yahaba Shigeru, Shopping Date, They're Not At Hot Topic But They Might As Well Be, Wholesome Safe For Work Content In My Kinktober? Heck Yeah, collaring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2021-01-02 04:50:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21155897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonstardust/pseuds/AU%20Mer-Maid
Summary: "I'm going to the mall this weekend," Yahaba says."Gross." Shirabu can only think of one thing worse than shopping, and that is shopping at the mall. The entire concept makes getting hit with a serve seem painless in comparison. "What time should I meet you there?"





	A Smile to Protect

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober Day 23 - Prompt: Collaring

Shirabu doesn’t know what he was expecting. Shopping is terrible at the best of times. The only way to make it bearable is to get it over with as fast as possible, but Yahaba has never done anything fast in his life.

As if to prove that point, Yahaba struggles with the clasp, his fingers slipping, and starts over yet again.

He shouldn’t have agreed to come. It’s not like Shirabu needs to buy anything in particular, especially not from this store. He looks into the display case before him. Studded belts slant in neat rows. A hungover employee passes him a coupon for hair dye without looking at him. Glancing from it to Yahaba, his hair turquoise at the tips, he subtly tears the coupon in half.

“What do you think?” Yahaba twirls around. The collar of his leather jacket obscures most of his neck, but Shirabu makes out the faint sheen of a black choker.

“Boring.”

“You suck.” Chewing his lip, he struggles to take the choker off.

Shirabu doesn’t think he needs more accessories, not when they still haven’t found his missing skull keychain or any of the lost studded bracelets that Shirabu suspects the dog chewed up. His piercings shine in the artificial light, and Shirabu counts one more earing than normal.

“These things weren’t made for fingers,” Yahaba mumbles as the clasp slips out of his grip again.

A worker approaches. “Do you need help—”

Shirabu slides behind Yahaba and undoes the clasp. The choker falls free. Reaching around him, Shirabu hands it to the employee. “Thank you.”

Yahaba saunters to the next display case and points out a necklace. “Red is sexy.”

Looking Yahaba up and down, he can’t find a single red thing on him. It would clash with his aesthetic for sure. Shirabu can’t tell if that’s the goal or just the caveat of having no brain cells.

When Shirabu doesn’t answer, Yahaba moves behind him. He grips his shoulders and guides him closer to the case. “Which do you think is sexy?”

Shirabu glares down at the selection of overpriced jewelry. Gaudy rhinestones. Flimsy bands that will break within a week of Yahaba wearing them. A ring with all the backbone of an invertebrate. He finds nothing worth buying.

Yahaba’s hands are still on his shoulders. Standing so close, he can feel Yahaba’s body heat against his back. It feels warm. Safe. Much sexier than any piece of sculpted metal or colored stone.

“This”—he slips his arm around Shirabu’s neck, leaning in closer to tap the glass—“matches my ring. But that one brings out my eyes.”

Shirabu tries to find the one that matches his eyes, but none of the dull stones before him compare. Instead, his gaze drifts to Yahaba’s hand, over painted nails, up to the worn leather of his jacket.

Coming here was a waste of his time. He isn’t into the gothic e-boy thing Yahaba has going for him. He doesn’t feel any excitement, any attraction. He knows even his leather jacket should be a turn on, but the only thing sexy Shirabu can find about it is the way Yahaba’s smiles whenever he says it makes him feel powerful, like all his vulnerability and anxiety have faded away.

“You’re not gonna be any help, are you?” Yahaba asks.

“What made you think otherwise?”

Yahaba sighs. It makes something uncomfortable stir in Shirabu’s stomach, something like regret. For once in his life, he’s not intentionally trying to be unhelpful. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He doesn’t like shopping. He thinks accessories are useless. He’s not attracted to Yahaba.

But seeing him smile fills his chest with a warm feeling like nothing he’s felt before.

“Which one makes you the happiest?” Shirabu asks, voice a low mumble.

“Hmm?” Yahaba scans the case again. He taps his thumb against his lips. “Dunno,” he says, but Shirabu watches his gaze drift over the items, moving more and more to the left.

“This one.” Shirabu points it out, and an employee removes it from the case for them. Accepting it from her, he moves behind Yahaba and gently pulls it around his neck. The material is thick and rigid. It looks more like a collar than a necklace, with large spikes forming a cohesive line around it. This one has a buckle instead of a clasp, but Shirabu fastens it for him.

Wordlessly, Yahaba appraises his reflection in the mirror on the counter.

“Well?” Shirabu asks.

Yahaba runs his finger over one of the spikes. “What do _you_ think?” It’s a harmless question, but his tone wavers on uncertainty. Evasive. It reminds Shirabu that Yahaba isn’t always as confident as he wants people to believe he is, especially when he’s trying new things. Like he’s afraid of being himself.

He rests his chin on Yahaba’s shoulder. “I think it suits you.”

“Yeah?” His eyes light up, confidence shining through. His lips quirk with the beginning of a smile, and it’s like a match striking in Shirabu’s chest, filling him with warmth.

“Yeah.”

Happiness suits him best of all.


End file.
